


The Razor's Edge

by DJSparkles



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJSparkles/pseuds/DJSparkles
Summary: A/U. Everyone saw John Winchester "cross over" at the end of season 2. But what if he didn't, not really?  Everything you thought you knew about Supernatural is about to get twisted. Or is it?
Relationships: To be announced
Kudos: 2





	The Razor's Edge

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite letters are A and U, folks. And John is one of my favorite characters, so I wanted to do him some justice here. Not fond of the way he was treated in later seasons. Anyway, enjoy!

Cassie stepped closer to the spot and groaned. There he was, just like she'd planned; and he was a mess. Hurt badly, and of course there was the whole crawling out of Hell in the first place thing. Something had crossed over once Azazel was dead, but it hadn't been John Winchester. He was still on the ground, and he was still badly hurt. She leaned over and put one hand on his forehead and shook her own dark head sadly. "Let's get you somewhere safe, before anything else," she murmured as she heaved him up to a sitting position and got under one arm to support him. "Come on, big guy, let's see if you can walk on your own because I'm not carrying you," she said evenly. "Can you hear me? Come on, buster, say something." She wasn't even certain he was conscious. "Hey, come on, let me see what color your eyes are, pal." She'd have to be very, very careful. She didn't want to be dead, and if he had even an INKLING of what she really was, she would be. He'd shoot first and ask questions later. If he could. She couldn't let him know what she was, or that she knew who HE was. Either would be deadly.

John came awake quick, grabbing the girl by the throat to protect himself. He shook his head, trying to clear his eyesight, and felt the familiar aches and pains of injuries from a hunt. “Who?” His voice was gruff as the first twinge of real pain made itself felt and he stifled a groan. He couldn’t let her know how bad off he really was.

Cassie had to consciously force herself not to draw power to protect herself. He couldn’t hurt her, not that way. And he wouldn’t, unless he figured out what she was. He just wasn’t a killer unless it was necessary. It was one of the things she’d admired about him, even in Hell. She’d watched him, even when he climbed off the rack for Alistair, she’d watched him, and she’d learned. He’d “gone native,” doing what he had to do while not letting it destroy him. And in the end he had climbed out of Hell itself to help destroy Azazel. 

His wounds had reopened, Cassie noticed with a frown. When Azazel had collected on John’s bargain, John had just begun to recover from the horrific accident that had killed Dean. John had bargained for his son’s life, and Azazel had taken him before he could do much more than start to mend. “If you want me to help you, I have to keep breathing,” she choked out. “I’m Cassie. And you’re hurt. I just want to help you, okay? Let me help you.”

John let go as he tried to get a look around. “Where?” he began as he tried to get the rest of the way up on his own only to fall back to a seated position. He let her help him up the rest of the way and leaned heavily against her. “Dean? Sam?” He knew he had seen his boys here, or thought he had. But where was here? How had he gotten here? The answer was hovering just out of his reach.

Cassie caught her breath and forced herself to sound normal. “Who are they?” she asked quietly as if she didn’t recognize the names. It was incredibly easy for her to support him but she made it look harder than it was in order to keep her true strength from him. “And what on earth are you doing lying around in a graveyard in the middle of the night, anyway? You’re hurt pretty bad. How did you get here like this? We’re in the back of beyond.” 

They certainly were. Samuel Colt had placed the graveyard here just for that reason. The Devil’s Gate had been well protected until Azazel had discovered the location of the Colt. “Easy. Slow, easy steps. We need to get you somewhere warm. Wyoming nights are colder than hell.” Appropriate as it was, she couldn’t afford the wince the thought brought. Hell had its own perception for each soul damned to exist there. “Can you walk a bit more, do you think?” Maybe she could never be redeemed, at least not in the current sense of the word, but she’d never stop trying. “One step, there we go. Good. If you need to stop, tell me, and we’ll let you rest, but we need to be gone.”

John sagged against her gratefully and then suddenly realized he had no clue who she was. His first impression of helpfulness was quickly overridden by his innate paranoia. Caution would be his watchword. “Don’t know how I got here,” he said slowly. “Where exactly IS here, anyway?” He fought down a wince of pain as his leg tried to fold up under him. Yeah, the bullet hole was still there and it hurt like a bitch. He was starting to remember a lot of things he really didn’t want to but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen her face before.

“Here would be a cemetery in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming,” Cassie returned with a hint of humor. “I don’t know what happened here and to be frank I really don’t care. I just want to get you somewhere warm and patch you up, then we can talk.” She knew she’d have to come up with a better story, but right now, she hoped this one would do. “There’s a motel about an hour away. If I can get you there, I can get you fixed up a little.” They were almost to the car she’d acquired. “You doing okay there, big guy? Need to stop for a minute?”

She had deliberately waited till the other hunters had gone before going to help John. She couldn’t afford too many questions, and if they’d found him, there would be a lot of them. If John was with her, she could hide him from Lilith, who would be certain to try and take control since Azazel was gone. All the demons would be jockeying for power but there was only one who could be the clear winner. And she knew John would want to find his boys as soon as he was well enough, and that just COULD NOT happen yet. If they were together, Lilith would act that much faster. She had to keep him hidden.

John shook his head slowly and sagged a little more. “Maybe just a minute,” he grumbled as he put a hand to his head which felt like it was about to explode. He remembered what had caused his injuries but nothing since then. Something was just on the edge of his memory, and he hoped he had enough time to tease it out in the open.

“Okay? Here we go. Lean on the car for a second.” Cassie settled him in the passenger seat with a frown. “Look, we need to be somewhere else, and fast. Whatever did this to you might come back, and I don’t want to meet it.” Of course she didn’t. This would be over before it started if that happened. She was no match for Lilith. “Got a name, big guy?”

She was a hunter, John thought dazedly. She’d said whatever, not whoever. His memories were coming back more quickly now and he knew she was right, but he couldn’t remember where he’d put his truck. Lost cause, he told himself sternly. “John Snyder,” he said quietly. He had seen her before, he knew it, but he didn’t want to use his real name still. Some vestige of paranoid self-preservation was insisting on the subterfuge. “Let’s get out of here, then.” He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes against the pain.

“That sounds like a plan.” Cassie put the car in gear and moved away from the cemetery as quickly as she dared. She didn’t want to be pulled over though she could easily sway anyone to her way of thinking. She hated what she had become and refused to let herself use those abilities. They would give Lilith a sign of where she was and she DEFINITELY didn’t want that. No, they had to stay hidden for a while. “As I’m seeing things right now, you’ve got a gunshot wound to the right leg. Right arm is pretty banged up. You’re not moving it a lot which means pain.” Any hospital would have a field day with him; he’d supposedly been dead for more than a year. He actually HAD been dead, dead and in Hell, but she didn’t want to try to explain that to any doctor. She was going to have a hard enough time explaining it to John if he didn’t start to remember.

John nodded at her as he leaned back with his eyes closed. Why couldn’t he remember who she was? The memory was there, he just couldn’t grasp it. “No hospitals,” he growled softly. “How long?”

“I’m not stupid. They’d have to report the gunshot wound. I can handle it for you.” Cassie was more than willing to let him think her a fellow hunter for the time being. And bystanders usually didn’t have the kind of knowledge – or the stomach – for what amounted to the field surgery she was about to perform on him when they got to the motel. The bullet wasn’t in his leg any more but it was going to hurt like hell to stitch up.

Why couldn’t he remember? He was trying to drag it out of his reluctant mind but his brain wasn’t cooperating. And he didn’t know her from Adam, really, so he’d keep his mouth shut for the most part.

“What were you hunting?” It was a calculated risk, and Cassie took it. He had to think she was another hunter, the way he had reacted to her presence in the cemetery. “Only reason I can think of that you’d be in a cemetery in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere.” She raised an eyebrow at him and gave a disgusted sigh when he said nothing. “Or maybe someone. But you found whatever or whoever you were looking for, and they got the better of you. Am I close?” She saw the motel sign and pulled in, but not before seeing him shake his head slowly. “Okay, keep your secrets. Let’s just get you inside and fixed up.” She got the room, helped him inside, and let him perch on the side of the bed. “You just sit there and let me get my supplies. That hole in your leg is bleeding pretty bad and if I don’t get it stitched quick, you’re gonna bleed to death.”

Towels for the bleeding, the medical bag from her car – and she noted his raised eyebrow at that one, but didn’t bother to explain – and sighed heavily. “Okay, big guy, I’m not normally so forward on a first date, but you need to lose the jeans. I can’t get to the wound with them still on you.” She looked away to give him a little privacy. “You can cover most of you with the bedspread but I need the leg bare.”

He’d already gotten the shirt off and was fumbling with the jeans while watching her through narrowed eyes. He couldn’t lift up enough to slide them off his ass and it annoyed the hell out of him. Weakness meant death. “Little help,” he managed to grind out as he let his mind work on his memories. “You’ve been doing this a while,” he grumbled as she slipped them down and he flopped back on the bed, grabbing at the bedspread to cover with.

She helped him to scoot up against the headboard while preserving his modesty and considered what she could see as well as what she knew about him. John Winchester was a powerful man and it showed. Not a spare ounce as far as the eye could see. Then she opened the kit, getting everything together and knowing as she did so that he’d recognize everything she was using and probably even the drugs she’d “acquired.” She carefully sterilized everything in alcohol and cleaned the wounds carefully, saving the leg for last. And she had to admire his restraint; he kept his mouth shut though she heard a few muffled sounds of pain. He wasn’t even cursing, which she considered a major accomplishment. It had to hurt like hell, no pun intended. “Long enough,” she finally answered as she threaded the sharp to start sewing. “Take these,” she ordered as she handed him a couple of pills and some water. “I’ll wait till you’re out to stitch. It’s gonna be a bitch to close and I don’t want you moving around while I do it.”

John was weighing his assessment of her relative youth against her obvious experience and not liking the comparison. He waved away the drugs. “I can handle it. Just stitch.” Alarm bells were going off in his mind and he’d listened to his paranoia too long to ignore it. He wasn’t about to let her put him out, maybe permanently. Damn it, where did he know her from?

“You need the morphine, John. I’m not about to let anything in here after you. Once we’re done, I’ll start setting protections. I’ve already got the salt line at the door, or didn’t you notice?” She held them out to him again. “Just take it and relax. I’m keeping watch.” She had to get him to take the drugs. She couldn’t talk to anyone until he was unconscious. She wasn’t about to take a chance he’d overhear the conversation. It was too damned important. And that boy of his, Dean, she was personally going to kick his ass when she found him. He’d made the same deal as his father, his life for Sam’s, and gotten barely a year out of the bargain. No, she couldn’t tell the boys their father was alive. Her plan had to change. She couldn’t even risk letting John know the boys were okay. She had to keep him under wraps as long as possible. Lilith couldn’t know Cassie had brought him back or they’d all be dead before they hit the floor. “Please. I haven’t had to do this on other people a lot.” For a couple of centuries, anyway.

He growled at her. “I’ll be fine. Just stitch.” Stubborn wasn’t a strong enough word for him when he set his mind to something. No way was he taking anything from someone he didn’t know. The thing of it was, though, he did know her. He had seen her before, but he couldn’t for the life of him dredge up the memory. So, he was just going to be mulish and refuse until he could. She seemed so young, and it was totally at odds with her competent and efficient handling of him. Most kids her age, even hunters, would be at the least disturbed by the extent of his injuries, and she was completely unfazed. No, uh uh, Mama Winchester didn’t raise an idiot. 

Cassie shrugged and put them away before picking up the needle. “You win. But you need to sleep, okay? You look like you’ve been awake for weeks and sleep will help you heal.” But she dropped the subject and just started working on his leg. She’d rather not lie to him any more than necessary, anyway, since he was more than smart enough to see through her if she wasn’t very, very careful. Her entire plan, what there was of it, depended on him being unaware of the danger he was in. She vaguely considered prayer, but then rejected it just as quickly. No one would listen to HER prayers, not any more.

John settled for giving her a glare before he fisted both hands into the blanket and put his head back against the headboard, jaw clenched so hard he thought he could hear the creak of the muscle. Every stitch she took was agony, but he wasn’t about to make a sound. He didn’t trust her and he was completely at her mercy. The thought was galling. Then all thought was gone for a time until she finished.

“Now let’s have a look at the cut on your head.” Cassie’s voice came to him from far away and somehow, he managed to get his jaw loose. It hurt, throbbing in counterpoint with the rest of his injuries. He felt like the drum section of a marching band, and they were all out of sync. But her fingers were gentle as they explored the injury, and he relaxed slightly at the light touch. He was so, so tired… but he didn’t dare sleep until he remembered where he had seen her before. He told himself that several times, but she’d made no move to cause him further damage, so what was the harm? No, he didn’t want to sleep. 

His body wasn’t listening to his mind. He felt her gentle hand on his hair as he slid down into darkness.

Cassie considered him for a moment and then stepped away. She set all the protections she could, runes, keys, salt lines, even cat’s eye shells and then stood back to survey her work before realizing that she, too, was weary. It had taken a lot of her power to do what she’d already done, and there was still much, much more that needed to be accomplished. She could easily have slid into the bed next to him, but she’d give him some space. So, she pulled one of the chairs over close to the bed and flopped into it, determined to keep him hidden from Lilith, even at the cost of her own existence. And at some point she, too, slept.

TBC...


End file.
